


On T.V.

by SarcasticFantastic (sarcasticmrfox)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, D/s undertones, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticmrfox/pseuds/SarcasticFantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam clicks off on the remote, and the perky young brunette on the TV fades to black. Then he scoffs, because really? Usually the reporters are more subtle, or at least way less vapid, but tabloids will be tabloids, and he’s not going to watch that for the next however-long he’s waiting for Bucky to be ready.</p>
<p>Instead, he’s going to go on an internal tirade for however-long he’s waiting for Bucky, because it never fails to get his goat, in the four years he’s been by Bucky’s side, how insufferable the media is. </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>"I Can't Believe It's a Band AU".</p>
            </blockquote>





	On T.V.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even like Band AUs, and yet here we are. For all intents and purposes, Bucky is over the age of 18. Sam just calls him kid because he's younger.

“Bucky Barnes, also known as the ‘Snow Soldier’ by fans of the band Red Room, steps out with...Yes, ladies, just his security entourage again. The trio were spotted squeezed tight into Odinson’s Deli where Barnes coyly avoided eye-contact with the paps and curious guests alike, and his guards made sure no one came close enough to bother the young lead singer. Leaves many of us hopefuls wondering if he’ll ever let us fans get close when it seems his security is the only company he needs.”

 

Sam clicks off on the remote, and the perky young brunette on the TV fades to black. Then he scoffs, because really? Usually the reporters are more subtle, or at least way less vapid, but tabloids will be tabloids, and he’s not going to watch that for the next however-long he’s waiting for Bucky to be ready.

Instead, he’s going to go on an internal tirade for however-long he’s waiting for Bucky, because it never fails to get his goat, in the four years he’s been by Bucky’s side, how insufferable the media is.

Look one way, and Bucky’s dating another celebrity. Or Natasha, “Widow”, again, for the fourth time, since obviously they’ve been on-and-off from the beginning. Nevermind they’ve been holding a band together for at least 7 years. Never mind that Nat is practically married to both her guitar and her freedom, and happily so, and has always made it very obvious. She even has a picture of her guitar in a tux on her instagram, for Christ's sake.

Look another way, and Bucky’s got another addiction, another cheating scandal, done another subtle dig at someone famous. All lies.

Admittedly, the “feud” with Calvin Klein had been as hilarious at first as it was apparently popular. Still, ridiculous. And much less funny when considering the shit Bucky got from other famous designers during. It’d taken a very private phone call and a public tweet to clear up that whole mess that nearly got Bucky blackballed by almost every fashion designer in the business.

“This isn’t even as bad,” Bucky had said. Sam and Cap were just newbies back then, and he was right. From then even, they were throwing people off of him, literally, when they were international; bullying people off of public property while they were home. He can’t even imagine what it was like before them. Given the way Bucky acts in certain situations, maybe he can.

Sam knocks on Bucky’s dressing room door, cuz now the memories have him feeling paranoid and he actually hasn’t heard anything for a minute now. “Hey, how long you planning to take to get dressed? Thought you were putting on plain clothes.” No answer.

“Barnes,” He tries again. The only response is a faint hum, maybe a muffled answer, but it sounds far away. Bucky’s room’s not that deep. “Bucky? Don’t make me come in after you.”

He does, though, because now he’s worried. And he expects the worst when the door opens.

“....Really?”

Bucky’s sitting at his dressing room table, one of the stereotypical ones with the big vanity and mirror, and the lights across the top are the only ones on in the room. His hand, the “famous” name brand bionic left one from so and such, is under his chin, half buried in shaggy hair that’s getting longer again, despite the incident in one of Sam’s flashbacks. His eyes are closed.

“Bucky,” and Barnes makes another noise, the sweet sleepy type that breaks Sam’s heart, and barely moves besides. “Alright, c’mon kid, you can get all your beauty rest at home--” He stops short.

“You aren’t serious.”

While going reach for Bucky’s shoulder, he spots the other hand: shoved down the front of Bucky’s jeans. Bucky’s grey eyes slide open, locking with Sam’s in the mirror. “You couldn’t wait til you got home?”

“Wouldn’ go ‘way,” Bucky slurs around his hand, his eyes staying locked on Sam’s as he continues stroking.

Sam glares back, “So you just planned to keep me out there waiting the whole time?” Bucky tilts his head back, presses the crown of his head against Sam’s stomach, hair flopping like some 90s heartthrob, and smiles sweetly up at Sam.

“I knew you’d come get me eventually.” He purses his lips, and Sam makes sure to roll his eyes extra-pissily before bending down and kissing them.

“Oh did you?” He purrs, in that way he knows gets Bucky all tense, and slides his hand down, past Bucky’s shoulders, lower. Bucky’s breath catches, his lashes flutter. “Sounds pretty manipulative, Barnes.”

Bucky bites his lip, lets Sam prise it out with his tongue. “I just know my bodyguard, is all.” He whispers, kisses him back. Makes a breathless noise when Sam touches his dick.

“Is that so?” He stoops a little lower, pressing his cheek to Bucky’s so he can watch their hands move together. He holds tight to Bucky’s so he can’t let go, strips their hands faster up and down Bucky’s cock, runs a thumb over the slit when he’s feeling adventurous. Bucky whimpers through his nose in Sam’s ear and gives Sam full control, holding on tight to Sam’s arm ‘round his chest with the other hand. “And what about the other one?”

He can see Bucky sort of shake of the fog as his eyes blink rapidly. “What Steve don’t know won’t hurt ‘im.” He answers breathlessly, physically swallowing like that might make him quieter. It doesn’t, not with him thrusting so helplessly into Sam’s fist. The tremors in his thighs say he’s close, and it’ll be a good one.

“S-stop!” He gasps, suddenly. Sam does, suddenly, because they’ve been here and done this before-- “Not like this.” Sam snorts, relaxes, because even now he’d expected--, but instead it’s just this, Bucky trying to hold out. Bucky frowns at him.

“Don’t laugh, you ass!” But Sam does. “I’m serious!”

“I know you are,” Sam chuckles, “Which is why it’s funny. What did you literally just say? About Steve?”

“We got time,” Bucky retorts. He wriggles out of Sam’s grasp and is turning around in his makeup chair. His eyes are super silver in the dark light - the silver of mischief.

“Yeah, and what happens when Steve waltzes in and sees you bent over the couch?”

Bucky bites his lip at that, his eyes flick to the couch as he capitalizes on the absolute wrong part of that statement.

“He won’t. We got time.” He glances down to the obvious tent Sam is making in his own jeans, then licks his lips. Makes Sam twitch, in spite of himself, when Bucky reaches for him, palming him with his flesh hand and gripping his hip with the other. Sam can feel Bucky’s breath where he leaves soft, open-mouthed kisses along Sam’s cock, “Please? Just a quick one.”

It’s like a switch flicks on in Sam’s head.

He crosses his arms. “Well, hurry up then.”

Bucky grins like a kid on Christmas, instead of someone who’s most certainly about to have someone’s dick in his mouth (or maybe just like) and unbuttons Sam’s fly. He slides Sam’s pants down reverently, even, eyeing him like a prize, and barely has Sam out of his boxers before wrapping his lips around him, moaning happily.

Sam’s eyes roll back a bit when Bucky bottoms out, but he gathers himself by the time Bucky looks back up, bobbing his head, watching for Sam’s reactions. His face is like stone when he grabs Bucky’s head, lacing into his hair, and presses him down more firmly. Bucky lets his head be guided easily, his eyes flutter shut as low whimpering reverberates up Sam’s cock, and balls his own hand into a fist at Sam’s hip. He’s completely pliant, letting Sam thrust slowly into his mouth, his throat, the only reactions being his low moans. Sam catches a flicker of movement sliding down Buck’s body disappearing into his clothes, and gives Bucky’s head a shake.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, Barnes.” Bucky, ever the smart-ass, widens his legs, where his hand is lazily stroking himself, almost teasingly. Sam tightens his hand, giving him a rougher shake, and Bucky’s eyes snap open as he moans, “Hand. On. My hip.”

Bucky does; his cock twitches in empty air as he complies and places his other hand on Sam’s hip as well, watching Sam. Obediently. “That’s enough.” Sam slips out of Bucky’s mouth, watching as Buck breaks eye contact only for a second, his tongue flicking out to sample one last bit of Sam’s taste before sliding over his swollen lip. He bites the lip, his eyes lock back onto Sam’s as he does as he’s told, reaching into Sam’s back pocket. Pulls out the lube.

Sam backs up when he sees Bucky has it, walking until the back of his knees hit the sofa adjacent. He sits.

“Well?”

Bucky’s face lights up, his pupils are totally blown. “Sam?”

“You wanted this,” Sam says, easing back into the sofa. “Show me how much you wanted this. You got this.”

For all his sweet seductiveness, Bucky sheds his clothes very quickly, face aflame as he sits before Sam naked. It’s not what Sam had in mind or expected, but he’s pleasantly surprised, both of them ignoring the fact that there’s no way he’ll be able to get the clothes back on with any haste. Bucky sits back, tears open the lube, parts his legs, runs a lubed finger over his twitching hole before slipping inside with a low moan. He quickly adds one, then is up to three while Sam watches, but is clearly frustrated when he can’t get to that exact spot he wants to reach.

“Ugh, fuck it. Just fuck me already.”

“I’m following your lead, Barnes.” Sam smirks. “Assume the position." Bucky gapes at him, sliding his fingers out.

“Wow, jinkies, that might be the sexiest thing I ever heard. How ever will I last now.” He deadpans, but his face is still burning when he kneels beside Sam on the couch cushions, back to Sam and places his hands on the arm.

Sam kneels up beside him, lines up. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” Before sliding in, without preamble. Whatever Bucky’s rebuttal was, it’s lost in a delicious noise as his hand flies back to grab Sam’s hip. It’s tight, so tight, and Sam wastes no time sliding home. Bucky, in a subconscious attempt to widen his legs probably, stumbles when one of his knees slips off the couch, and whatever angle Sam hits when Bucky’s chest meets the arm is apparently just the right one because Bucky wails, lying prone as Sam thrusts into him.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck,” Bucky whimpers with every thrust, right hand scrambling over Sam’s hip. The friction’s amazing, and Sam agrees, not even holding back his own grunts in response. He goes slower, harder. “Oh, oh, fu--”

Bucky doesn’t get to finish that sentiment, sounding shocked himself as he comes hard without a hand on him, eyes blown wide watching in awe as he just about paints the couch with come. Sam has a split second to think about how they’re definitely _not_ hiding that before he’s coming, too.

“Holy shit,” Bucky whines, when Sam slides out and he’s faced with collapsing into a couch of come or the cold, hard floor. He chooses instead to straddle it weirdly, supporting himself against the back of the couch instead with his hole still twitching right next to Sam’s face. “Shit...we’re gonna have to burn this couch. Tonight.”

Sam hums, leans forward, sticks his tongue in Bucky’s ass instead. He licks a stripe up the reddened hole, making Bucky moan, his mind immediately back on one thing. He lies still, lets Sam probe him with his fingers, lathe with his tongue. His cock twitches feebly under him, still too oversensitive and red, but if Sam knows Bucky, and he does, he’s not done.

It takes a moment more than Sam thought they had, but Bucky gets hard enough again, hard enough for Sam to get a hand on him with just a few oversensitive twitches, but Bucky spreads his legs anyway. Sam’s chin is drenched with saliva, he’s actually more than a little tired, and his clothes are definitely starting to feel gross, but yeah, he kind of loves it. Bucky makes it so easy to worship without knowing he’s being worshipped, humble and sweetly submitting til the end, and that’s what the tabloids won’t ever know, how even though Bucky feels he’s at his limit he always wants to be pressed a little more, how shyly he looks at Sam when the walls come down, how cute he is letting go in front of people he loves.

He circles his hips, tip of his cock grinding against the couch and looks back one last time at Sam, and then he’s going over, sobbing and overstimulated and tensing to spill over Sam’s fingers, and it’s just as hard as before if not more. He whines into Sam’s kiss and keeps coming, Sam’s hand stroking his prostate, riding him through it until it’s Too Much again. And then he’s sweet and cuddly and dazey, wrapping his fingers around Sam again without Sam himself even noticing he was hard, stroking him fast until Sam’s coming on his stomach, moan catching like it was punched out of him.

 

 

“Really, guys? Again?”

It’s been minutes or maybe hours, but it startles them out of their post-orgasmic laze all the same. They both look up, and Steve's standing over them. He looks entirely past the point of frustration and right into exasperated acceptance. Sam just runs a hand over his face, but Bucky grins.

“Stevie! Been here long?” He sounds way too bouncy for someone who just came twice in a row, but that’s Bucky.

“Yeah, long enough.” He sighs, then frowns at Sam. “And you know, him, I expect this from, but come on, Sam.”

Sam shrugs, because really he has no explanation for this right now, and he’s two orgasms deep and way overdue for a good night’s sleep at this point, even if Bucky’s not. So, Bucky of course, chimes in, “Poor Sam just couldn’t resist my wiles.”

“Yeah, sure, your wiles.” Sam mumbles, rubbing his tired eyes again.

“Yeah, well when you assholes still have to be up at 4 for the flight, I don’t want to hear any whining, from either of you, because I warned you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, since we’re already late, might as well take care of that for ya.” Sam only just sees what Bucky’s talking about, Steve’s half hard, hardly noticeable in his black work jeans, and Bucky’s already nosing into it. Steve moans, mutedly, under his breath, and presses his hand to the back of Bucky’s head, just slightly threading fingers through his hair.

  
“Hm. Yeah, maybe you should.” He murmurs, grinds his boxer-clad cock against Bucky’s lips. Bucky whimpers when Steve’s grip tightens, his own cock twitching against Sam’s stomach.

Sam groans himself, watches Bucky slide Steve’s black shirt up with his hand, nuzzle the light blond hairs under his navel as he unbuttons the jeans, but Sam is down for the count. The kid, though? Insatiable. He’s stiffening up again, only slightly, damn crazy short refractory period.

“And maybe if you’re real good, I’ll let you ride me,” Blue and grey eyes meet, and Sam can almost feel Bucky’s ass clenching as Steve watches with that unyielding look, deep in Bucky's throat. Buck’s hand lands on Sam’s shoulder, his rhythm never faltering around Steve, but it grips Sam almost hard enough to hurt. Steve glances at Sam, and smirks. “Maybe both of us?”

Sam’s going to cry, seriously, because these two will be the death of him.

 

They barely make the flight. When the tabloid picture comes out with a picture of the three leaving the venue rumpled at 3am, accounts of “weird couch stains” and “The Winter Soldier: A Secret Polyamorist” splashed across the cover, Nat laughs until she cries.

\---

 

The fans take the rumors pretty well, find it all very Rock and Roll, and plenty of dissertations about how happier and healthier Bucky looks start popping up all over the net. Magazines stop focusing as much on making rumors about what Bucky could be doing and more about mundane couple stuff, like their trip to the beach in Cali, or the time Steve and Sam visited Bucky on set during a music video set in the Netherlands (though they’d been there the whole time, just on vacation rather than actively working).

 

Sam suffers through a very embarrassing call from his mother, something along the lines of her being accepting of a new life that makes him happy, especially if it involves the, quote, “sweetest men in the world”, but also a very extensive list of all the ways he can still have grandchildren. Still, watching Steve and Bucky laugh, albeit at Sam’s mortified expense, in their cushy hotel room piled on the biggest and softest king Sam’s ever slept on, makes any and all embarrassing phone calls and cuddly paparazzi pictures worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oo, my first contribution to my favorite pairing(s). I left plenty to the imagination because this story basically birthed itself in oneshot form and I cannot make multi-chapter happen. Hopefully nothing was too vague ✌. Also I fixed 0 errors so they're all mine.


End file.
